


Jesus, Marine

by jane_potter



Category: Avatar (2009)
Genre: Alien Biology, Angst, Emotional Baggage, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Outdoor Sex, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-29
Updated: 2010-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-17 04:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/172677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jane_potter/pseuds/jane_potter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake takes his first steps on Avatar legs. Grace is there to help him through it. Wink wink nudge nudge. Ahem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jesus, Marine

**Author's Note:**

> More for oxoniensis's extraordinary Porn Battle IX. My flist is a bad influence, and I love it.

The first time Jake goes outside of Hell's Gate in his Avatar, it's not on a real assignment, and nobody else goes with him except Grace. He thinks this is strange. She clearly thinks that her decision's logic is obvious and is irritated that he doesn't follow it.

"I'm not even convinced you're presentable for society even in your regular body," she snipes when he asks, "let alone in a 30-million dollar work of art with an extra appendage and the strength of six humans. It's a miracle you didn't trash more than a medical lab when you first linked."

"So?" he demands, struggling to comprehend. Getting into the link bed is still awkward, the maneuver from the chair so clumsy-looking that the lab techs keep looking at him like they want to help.

"So I'd rather not have anybody else around to get hurt when I find out what a disaster you're going to be," Grace says, and pushes the link bed closed before he can retort.

Out in the jungle, it's overwhelming. He's drenched in scent and sensation, on sensory overload. Heat and dampness well up from the ground underfoot at every step, the richness of loam and decaying vegitation rising to meet him, make his head spin. Jake's not listening to a word Grace says by the time they're fifteen minutes into the walk, Trudy's flitter left behind them. His feet, his legs-- oh _god_ , his _legs_ \-- carry him onwards. He feels like a newborn, like an old man, taking his first/millionth steps.

A flood of emotion makes him shudder, hitting so hard he has so stop just to handle it. Eyes closed, frozen in place, Jake stands and breathes and _feels_. Too much, too much-- he toes off his boots without thinking, then his socks. Gloriously barefoot, he digs his feet into the earth, past the slimy leaf layer and into crumbly dirt. Jake gasps as sensation runs up his legs, his spine, and he stumbles forward blindly, each step a revelation.

He falls to his knees, almost sobbing. The _thud_ of his never-skinned knees into the wet earth nearly makes Jake cry, because he can't remember how many times he bashed his dead shins on corners and walls and didn't feel a thing when he was first learning to handle the wheelchair. Trembling, his alien throat making animal noises he didn't even know he was capable of-- doesn't even hear himself making-- Jake clutches at the ground and squirms his toes into it and gasps in its heady scent with a nose that brings him smells he's never known, can't comprehend.

" _Jesus_ , marine, what's wrong with you?"

The words pierce his fog like knives but it's not enough to drag Jake back from the _feeling_ \-- fuck that, he's not had this in years and he won't let it go. "I never thought I'd have this again," he croaks, reaching down to grind a dirty palm along his thigh, pushing and kneading through the fabric of his pants. He wants those off too, now, wants more bare skin and all its living nerves to know the world anew. "I-- it feels so--"

"It's okay," Grace says softly, more gentle than she'd ever been with anything that didn't perform photosynthesis. Through the dirt Jake feels her kneel down behind him. He _mewls_ when her hands land on his hips, gripping, solid, _real_. "Just breathe, Jake. Take it easy."

"I need-- I need to--"

Whether it's the scientist in her that consents to go along and collect data from the unfolding scene, or a hidden sense of compassion suddenly making itself known from behind the thorny exterior, Grace helps him off with his pants, her nimble blue fingers handling the zip that his are shaking too badly to manage. Jake groans and whines and _writhes_ , now completely out of it, every unhelpful shimmy of his mobile hips making the fabric twist against his legs. Grace finally shoves him over onto his back and pulls his pants off, while Jake lays on his back in the dirt, sensation drunk and delirious.

"Oh please, please," Jake whispers, heels kicking furrows in the soft loam, sensations like _gritty_ and _wet_ and _warm_ vibrating up his spine. Doesn't know, doesn't care what he's begging for-- so Grace decides for him. She discard her own shorts and straddles his hips, and when Jake falters, completely at a loss as to what to do with the strange equipment down below, Grace handles it deftly and sinks down on him with an expert roll of her hips.

Jake _screams_ , something in his chest letting the sound out as a roar, the Avatar's instincts peeling his lips back from his fangs. Above him, the beads on Grace's dreadlocks clatter with every shift, her braid swinging down over her shoulder, and Jake can just barely make out an expression of concern on her face before the tears run over, blurring everything. His big golden eyes cry from beneath the upper lid, and the tears smell like sour lemon and tingle as they run down his cheeks.

There's no wetness between Grace's lean aqua thighs, just glorious velvet that feels like heaven when it rubs against his base on every downstroke-- not to mention, _god_ , the way it feels when his cock sinks into her dry-velvety cleft. Jake's longer than he used to be, his cock weirdly curved, and there's some kind of retractable bone involved, and his fumbling blind fingers find no folds between Grace's legs, just a soft hollow behind her slit that makes her gasp and arch her back when he presses it, and everything's covered in that soft fine fur, but, oh, oh, oh, it's good, it's good. It's so much more than-- than anything. Anything and everything he's never felt.

His tail lashing the ground of its own accord, Jake rocks his hips into Grace's rhythm. She flexes up and down, rippling, speaking to him through skin and nerve endings, her constant soft reassurances nothing but a murmur in the background. He can't tell whether it's better when he pushes up and slides into her tightness and heat, or when his hips fall and his ass grinds into the dirt, buttocks clenching. He just _does_ , and feels, and keeps on feeling until he's feeling a pressure start at the nape of his neck, building and building like a vice winding tighter until it finally _peaks_ , hot and white and powerful like mountains, gripping every inch of his body, crushing a high-pitched catscream from his chest that just goes on and on and on--

And apparently this huge wrenching orgasm could just keep _going_ for as long as they can maintain the level of sensation once Jake's reached that point, but Jake's no Na'vi and he can't handle it, could barely handle it even if it was just normal sex. The euphoria finally reaches a point that he's so sensation-ragged that he has to grab Grace's hips and stop her, his breath coming in big shuddering heaves.

Hearing Grace's desperate gasps, though, Jake reaches back and pushes _hard_ against that soft hollow spot without a clue what he's doing, but it turns out to be enough for Grace-- she tenses up around him all over again and convulses, moaning long and low. The translucent white tendrils at the end of her braid writhe and twist, orgasmic. Jake holds the pressure for as long as she keeps pushing down against it, hips jerking minutely, her face upturned to the jungle canopy and rigid with ecstasy, until finally his fingers cramp and he's got to let go. Grace takes a big gulping breath and shudders, the tension unwinding from inside her like water flowing down into the earth.

"All right, marine?" she asks, only a little hoarsely.

Jake's still crying, doesn't know if he can stop, when he'll stop, so he shoves an arm over his eyes and pretends Grace doesn't notice. The whiteness and mountainlike pulse still throbs inside of him, at the base of his skull, filling him so full that it's as if he's being pushed from the inside against the barrier of his living infant skin. "I. I just-- I didn't--"

Grace rolls off him. Peeking from under his forearm, he notices that the pale freckles scattered across her face are glowing more brightly than ever, little flecks of light glittering on the human nose in the middle of her Avatar face. She pulls her shorts back on calmly, brushing dirt off her knees.

Speaking of, he's covered with it. In the afterglow, hypersensitive and exhausted, Jake can feel the grit and grime on every inch of his bare skin. His whole face is wet, so he wipes it with his free hand, and his fingers comes away sticky with a thin, glowy fluid. It's on him everywhere he's got those freckles, leaking from his pores.

"Don't get that on me," Grace orders. "I _don't_ want to end up pregnant."

Jake says nothing and doesn't move.

After a moment, Grace crouches down beside him, puts his pants on the ground next to him. "In your file, it said you'd been paralysed for almost two years," she says, her voice low.

Jake's throat sticks too much to reply. He just nods, hiding behind the weight and darkness of his arm as more lemony tears slide down his cheeks.

"All right, then," says Grace after another moment, suddenly brisk again. "Two minutes, marine. We've still got a lot of things left to cover today."

He goes barefoot for the rest of the day.


End file.
